by MK Clark
“I guess this ship sees a lot of action.”
“A fair bit,” X-Ray answered, “but she’s more of a skirmisher, in and out, quick-like. And the repairs will take some time, so Yo-Yo will probably take the time to run some maneuvers out there in the Cobras. You know, to give you a chance to get used to them.”
Eli frowned. “The ten being replaced, did any of them make it out alive?”
“The pilots? I didn’t say all of them were being replaced. Take you guys, for example. There are only two of you, not three. As far as being alive, very few pilots get off on medical leave. If a pilot gets hurt that bad, he usually doesn’t make it back to the ship. If he does, well, it’s like what happened to Timerra, my pal. He was gone before the watch switched.”
“I’m sorry,” Eli offered.
X-Ray shrugged it off. “It happens. Timerra knew that.”
X-Ray fell silent as they drew up next to the others. Lana and Moose peeled off, heading for the pilots' quarters.
“What in the blessed universe have you been telling them, McCoy?” Syke asked. “They look like they’ve been told the whole Zarwean fleet is sitting at our doorstep.”
Kyomo eyed the grim looks on their faces and raised her eyebrows at X-Ray. He gave them a weak smile, and Syke rolled his eyes.
“Here they are,” Kyomo motioned. “O’Hara on the right, Amal the left. Your Cobras are grouped with those of your flight group.”
Chip smiled and clapped Eli on the shoulder. “You are with me.”
Don turned and walked toward the Cobra declared his. He looked up at it and felt his disbelief returning. He laid a hand on the cool metal. His Cobra, his very own.
Don climbed the ladder leading up to the cockpit. Kyomo stood beneath him and leaned against the Cobra as Don examined it. The seat was worn and stained, the metal tarnished, but nothing was broken or falling apart.
“She looks good,” he finally said.
Kyomo nodded approvingly. “Yeah, she does. You’ll have a few days to get used to her, and then we’ll go for a run outside when you and Amal are rested.”
This was really it. Don ran his hand along the side of the open hatch. His chest swelled with pride. He’d done it. He patted the side of the Cobra and then descended to the hangar floor.
He turned to speak to Kyomo and stopped abruptly. The CP stood scowling down at him.
“Is it true? You’re General O’Hara’s son?”
Don’s mouth went dry. “Yes.”
He could see the muscles in the man’s jaw working. Lauden looked up at Kyomo, furious. “Patricks, I want him off duty right now! And you,” he said to Don, “don’t get comfortable here.”
Kyomo gently but firmly pushed Don to the side. “I do not have an alternate to take his place. I need him.”
“He is the general’s son!”
“I believe they both knew that when he joined the Space Forces, and I can produce the necessary paperwork if you need proof of permission for him to be here.”
“I will not have this boy’s death connected to my name.”
Kyomo’s face hardened. “He won’t die.”
Lauden sneered. “They always die, Patricks.” He nodded toward the empty Cobras. “All of them, no matter what you say.”
“Not all of them,” Kyomo countered quietly.
“I’m warning you, Patricks. I want him off this ship and out of my command.”
Kyomo held up a hand. “Ah, this is where you are wrong, sir. He is a Space Jumper and under my command, not yours.”
Lauden’s eyes narrowed. “I believe I am the CP here, not you. I don’t care what branch of the force he is in. He is still in my command.”
“O’Hara,” Kyomo said harshly, her gaze never leaving the lieutenant’s face, “are you prepared to disobey your orders and return to the Fidelity?”
“No, ma’am,” he answered quietly.
“Then get them rescinded,” Lauden snarled.
“I’m afraid I can’t do that, sir.”
The man shook his head, accusation in his face. “He’s the general’s son, Patricks!”
“I know that.”
“His only son.”
Chapter 16
May 29, 626 T.A.
“This is Venom Two-Three. Tally two in quadrant three.”
Don’s eyes flickered to the image of Lana’s Cobra projected on his HUD.
“General,” she continued, invoking his codename, “I think it’s about time you earned your wings. I’m sending you the coordinates.”
He lowered his gaze to the two large radars in front of him. There they were, two glowing green dots on the very edge of his screen. His heartbeat quickened a little in anticipation.
The PCC clicked in. “Did they ping us, Two-Three?”
Don squinted up at the pastel-colored clouds suspended in front them. The dots on his radar sped toward noise created by the gaseous chemicals. “This is Venom Two-Four,” he stated, finally joining the chatter. “The bandits are heading for noise.”
“Roger that, General,” Lana answered. “Control, affirmative. They got a front row seat and are heading home. Requesting permission to pursue.”
“Granted, Two-Three.”
Don opened his mouth, but his words were cut off by Kyomo’s. “General and Ki, stay on channel four. We’re right behind you.”
“Roger that,” Lana confirmed. “General, spool up. Five second burst.”
Don matched Lana’s speed easily as they began their chase of the Zarwean spacecraft. The bandits disappeared into the nebula, leaving two small tunnels behind them.
“General, follow me.”
“Roger that,” he answered and pressed lightly on his left thruster, dropping behind Lana as they dove into the colorful gases. When the gases thinned, Don saw the two Zarweans appear intermittently on his radars. “Lana, I see them, three o’clock, six and a third click, level.”
“Roger that, General. I’ve got a visual on them. Take the lead.”
Don grinned. “Yes, ma’am!” He could hear her laugh at the enthusiasm in his voice as he pushed the thruster at his right foot and sped forward. Lana fell in behind him, and they began to close the distance to their targets.
“You ready for this?” she asked.
“Without a doubt.”
The aircraft re-appeared on the radar. Distance continued to drop. Four clicks. Two-point-seven-five. Two-point-two-five. They entered a large area clear of the nebulous gases. Moments later, the Zarweans split.
“Lana, we’ve been painted.”
“Yo-Yo, they’ve pulled a wishbone. Do we pursue or rumble?”
Silence greeted Lana’s question. One of the Zarwean craft flipped around and began to fly toward them.
Don jumped in. “The enemy is engaging.”
A few more seconds passed without answer, and the fighters closed to less than a mile from each other. The radio finally buzzed, and through the static they heard Kyomo’s voice. “… two…your last…”
“Crap. Friggin’ nebula’s interfering,” Lana exclaimed. In the same breath she continued, “General, pursue that bandit. I’ll keep this one off you.”
Don nodded unconsciously. “Roger.”
“Looks like it’s not your day after all, General,” Lana noted, apology in her tone as she locked onto the bandit that could have earned him his wings.
“The day’s not over yet,” he answered, and dropped his Cobra down, pushing on the throttle for a few seconds as Lana opened fire on the enemy fighter before them.
In a moment, Don was past the first Zarwean, and headed swiftly after the second. The enemy had gained distance on him, stretching them to just over two and a half clicks apart. He could see the spacecraft nearing the edge of the clearing, and knew he didn’t have much time. He pressed hard with his foot and shot forward, knowing he would have to slow down in a few seconds.
Don punched a series of numbers into the keypad on his right, held his breath, and waited. A light flashed on hi
s HUD. He could do it. “I’ve got bandit two in my sights. Should I engage?” he asked.
“Blow him out of this universe.”
Don keyed in the code and squeezed a button on his stick. “Venom Two-Four, fox one.”
His eyes never left the Zarwean as his missile streaked toward the enemy spacecraft. It closed the distance at what seemed like an excruciatingly slow speed. The bandit was almost all the way to the iridescent clouds now.
He saw something shoot out the back of the other craft. The missile veered away, hit the object, and exploded. Don clicked his tongue in disappointment. He barked out a few rapid orders to his APRIL, and the image on his HUD split into two views. He took an extra second to make sure his course was locked, set the autopilot, and then pressed the missile launch button once more.
The image on half of the HUD changed rapidly as the missile shot forward. Don guided it by hand as he left the Cobra’s self-defense up to his APRIL. Don swerved the missile to avoid another wave of countermeasures.
In the moment before impact, the bandit jumped abruptly to the side. On the second half of his HUD, he saw smoke billowing from an explosion right before the enemy spacecraft disappeared behind the mass of gases. It wasn’t the hit he’d hoped for, but it was enough.
Don switched off the course lock on his ship and headed for the hole in the nebula. “Lana, bandit two has been damaged and is taking cover in the noise. I’m in pursuit.”
“Affirmative,” Kyomo announced, her words static-free as she and Syke entered the large clearing. “Ki, follow your wingman. We’ll mop this up.”
Don glanced once more at his radar before it became useless. Lana’s luminescent dot broke off from the others and began to head toward him.
“It’s about time you showed up!” she called.
“Time for us to show you how good pilots play,” Syke answered.
Don slowed as he entered the tunnel left by his quarry. He felt he was crawling along while he struggled to follow the quickly fading trail. He was almost convinced he'd lost it when the clouds began to thin again, and his eyes flickered from his HUD to his instruments in search of his quarry.
Suddenly, he was out in the open, his enemy mere hundreds of feet in front of him, a silhouette against the massive body of a Zarwean battle cruiser behind it. A little farther out, Don could see two ships about the same size.
Don felt his stomach twist. He forgot to breathe. Instinct took over, and he squeezed the trigger, opening fire on the damaged fighter before him. He cursed loudly, adrenaline filling his veins and staving off panic.
“This is Venom Two-Four, I’ve got eyes on three battleships approximately two clicks from last contact.”
The answer was filled with static. “General… confirm?”
Don was now on top of his target. This time, his missile struck true, and the ship exploded. Finally, Don began to pay attention to the warnings his APRIL had filled the cockpit with. He slammed his left foot down and pulled back on his stick. His Cobra flipped hard and fast and headed back toward the nebula.
“This is Venom Two-Four. Does anyone copy?” He paused and switched his HUD to show the view behind him, quickly studying the enemy ships. “Two Type Charlies and one Type Beta, two clicks from last contact. Beginning countermeasures and heading back. I am heading back.”
The reply was swift, but just as useless as the last. “… rendezvous…distance… position.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Don grunted and dove back into the clouds, thankful for the first time that day for their cloaking properties. Less than a minute later, Lana began requesting his position, her words coming in clearer than Kyomo’s had. Somehow he managed, through repetition, to relay his position to her. Minutes later, she was right behind him.
“What the hell have you been babbling about, General?” she demanded.
Don stared grimly at his HUD, heart still racing. “There are three Zarwean battleships on the other side of this nebula, and they know we’re here.”
There was a long moment of silence and then, “The day’s not over yet, huh?”
Don grinned in spite of himself.
When they arrived back at the Morning Star, Kyomo and Syke had already docked and reported in. They didn’t even have time to request permission to land before the PCC was on their coms.
“Venoms Two-Three and Two-Four, you are cleared for landing. Get your birds in the hatch and out of the way.”
As he docked, Don caught a glimpse of the preparations being made in the hangar. From what he could tell, they were preparing to make a run for it. Don fumbled with the latch at his neck and slowly pulled his helmet off.
There was a tapping from the outside, and Don’s hands jerked to release the cockpit door. A member of the hangar crew stood on the ladder outside, waiting. He passed her his helmet and began to release the catches on his safety belts.
“Well done, pilot. They’re waiting for you in debriefing. The ship is on code red.”
Don nodded and jumped out, squeezing past Sarah to the hangar floor.
Lana met him halfway to the ladder and clapped him on the shoulder. “Not bad, little General, not bad at all. Sorry about taking your kill back there.”
“That’s all right,” Don said and lifted his chin a little. “I found a new one.”
“You got him? Good for you!” she said, grinning. “Why didn’t you say something before now? This calls for a celebration!”
“I was a bit distracted.”
“Ah, yes, I suppose you were,” she conceded. She squeezed his shoulder. “Congrats, General. Guess it turned out to be your day, after all!”
Before either of them could say anything else, Lieutenant Lauden’s voice rang down on them from above. “What the hell are you two doing?”
Heads snapped up to B deck.
The CP was glaring down at them. “I want to see your asses up here yesterday!”
“Yes, sir!” they shouted and sprinted for the ladder, taking it two rungs at a time.
The moment they reached the top, Lieutenant Lauden was in their faces. “O’Hara, Ki, to the briefing room to give your report. Now!”
Weeks later, Don could barely contain his restlessness. Ever since his discovery of the Zarwean battleships and the Morning Star’s narrow escape, Lieutenant Lauden had effectively grounded them. Don could count on one hand the times his flight had been allowed out to train, let alone do a patrol run. Somehow Lauden managed to have a viable reason to deny Kyomo permission each time they were on duty.
After finally earning his wings, Don felt shorted by their lack of flight time, and he was not the only one. Syke had begun to provoke fights with the other pilots just to give himself something to do. While Lana entirely disapproved of his actions, she was all too happy to back him up and not quite repentant enough when caught to be believable.
Kyomo, tired of having to answer to Lauden for her subordinates’ behavior, threatened to ground them all for a month if any of them even sneezed in another pilot’s direction. Even so, she understood their frustrations and tried to keep them distracted in the training room. She pushed them to experiment with other spacecraft and demanded they each pick another type to qualify on.
The problem with this tack was that it only reminded them more of what they weren’t allowed to do. Fed up, they decided to corner Kyomo and confront her regarding the CP’s actions. If they could get her to admit what he was doing, maybe they could convince her to report it, call him out, but Kyomo refused to play along.
“Remember,” she told them, “the Space Jumper program is fairly new. It’s only just begun to gain momentum. It’s difficult for everyone involved. No one likes a rookie, especially a young rookie.”
“Yeah,” Lana interjected. “They also don’t care that we have to meet higher expectations than they ever did.”
“That’s not true.”
“You right,” Syke amended. “They do care. They hold it against us, ‘cause we better than them.”
; Kyomo cut him off with a wave of her hand. “That’s enough of that. That’s an order. You are not helping the matter. You can’t blame the older pilots for feeling that way.” She said to all three of them, “I understand, but it doesn’t matter how much I believe in Eli and Don. They are young and inexperienced. Lauden’s rookies have to prove themselves, too. A rookie is a rookie is a rookie.”
“That’s bull!” Don snapped. “He’s not worried about how we’ll measure up; both Eli and I have earned our wings and proven ourselves. Lauden isn’t limiting Eli’s flight like he is ours. This is about who my father is, and you know it.”
“Only partially right, O’Hara,” Kyomo finally acknowledge.
“True,” interrupted Syke. “Look at Yo-Yo. She one of the first Space Jumpers graduated, and Lauden still hate her. He is more than happy to have an excuse to ground her.”
“Don just happens to be that excuse,” Lana finished grimly.
Kyomo didn’t reply. They all knew it was true.
The CP was furious that Don had been put into a combat situation that had left him without backup, unable to communicate with the rest of his fellow pilots, the single target of three huge battleships. This was about punishing Kyomo, maybe not as much as it was about Don, but enough. As much as he loved his comrades, Don was beginning to wish he were on any other ship than the Morning Star.
Don was in the mess hall when Syke found him. He jumped back slightly as a piece of overcooked carrot whizzed past his face.
“What you thinking about?” Syke asked from across the table.
Don gave Syke a fake smile. “How good you’d look in a brassier.”
“Aw, I know you just jealous. You wish you had my startlingly handsome body.” Syke ran a hand along his chin as he spoke and then struck a dramatic pose.